


Heavy

by Nevcolleil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Wee!chesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: A collection of short ficlets about brotherly love.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 4





	1. Throwaway Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Sam heard the term "throwaway kid" he was ten.

The first time Sam heard the term "throwaway kid" he was ten. He blushed a bright red, and his stomach felt queasy, because he'd heard the word used in reference to his brother.

The counselor hadn't spelled it out for him... She'd been talking to a teacher and obviously hadn't known that Sam was there, but Sam could use context clues - it wasn't hard to figure out what the counselor meant.

It was the first time Sam ever skipped school without his brother or his dad having told him to.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked immediately. Sam wasn't gone for maybe half an hour before Dean was hurrying through the door of their motel room, proving Sam's suspicions true that Dean was keeping an eye on him while they're at school, somehow, even though they weren't in the same classes or even the same building on that campus.

Sam tried not to tell the truth - he did. He didn't know if Dean would make fun of him for what he was feeling, or - even worse - start to feel bad too. But he didn't want to find out.

Dean knows Sam too well, though - knew him even better then. Eventually Sam asked, "Dean... Have you ever heard of a- a 'throwaway kid'?"

Whatever the teachers used to say, Dean is smart. He's quick, in a lot of ways; he just can't stand learning from anyone who hasn't proven that they have something worthwhile to teach. "Who called you that?" Dean asked, eyes and mouth changing. Not quite into Dangerous/Hunter mode, but definitely into Pissed Off Big Brother.

'They didn't,' Sam couldn't say - because he didn't want to repeat what else they'd said about Dean.

'Frankly, I'm surprised he comes to school at all,' Sam heard the counselor say. 'You know how kids like that end up. On the streets, selling drugs or themselves. It's such a tragedy...'

"We're not _abandoned_ , Sam. Dad may not be around a lot, but he wouldn't ditch us," Dean went about reassuring Sam, despite Sam's non-answer. "And even if he did - big 'if' there, Sammy - you wouldn't be alone. You've got me, alright? You'll _always_ have me."

Dean was so worked up about what he was saying, he didn't even realize that he'd basically just initiated his very own 'chick flick moment.' But Sam was too worked up himself to call him on it.

"And you've got _me_ , Dean!" Sam made sure to say. If Dean never let him say it again, he had to know that he'd said it once. That Dean heard someone say that he isn't a thrown away anything. "There's no such thing as a throwaway person," Sam concluded.

"Damn straight," Dean said. "And you remember that, the next time some a-hole says something stupid."

Sam said he'd try, though secretly he knew it would never be okay with him when someone said something derogatory about his brother. The one person who really mattered in Sam's life.

The only person who ever really made Sam feel like something other than disposable.


	2. Safer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever the reason, Dean remembers learning the word 'talisman' when he was seven. And he caught himself thinking, ' _That's Sammy_.'

When they were little - really, _really_ little - Dean remembers feeling safer when he was near Sammy. Which made no sense, even then, looking back, because Mom _died_ right next to the kid, and Dad could actually fight the monsters Dean was suddenly sure would eat him any day once they realized he knew they were real.

But it didn't have to make sense. With little Sammy tucked into his arms, Dean felt safer. Better. Less like the shadows all around them were closing in. Maybe some part of him believed that the monsters wouldn't really eat a _baby_. A cute, innocent little baby. Maybe Dean still believed that God wouldn't allow something so terrible to happen. Something else so terrible.

Whatever the reason, Dean remembers learning the word 'talisman' when he was seven. And he caught himself thinking, ' _That's Sammy_ ,' then feeling embarrassed, because Dad was talking about some seriously powerful wards against evil. And here Dean was thinking of his drooly little brother.

But Dean still thinks that way. Yeah, after everything. After the visions and the lies, the _Devil,_ and the thing with Sam's soul... With Sam's wall broken to pieces and Sam's psyche barely holding its shit...

When Dean is near Sam, he feels safe. Even if 'near Sam', sometimes, is the most dangerous place to be, for both of them. Maybe there's no rhyme or reason to it, but Sam is Dean's talisman against trouble. Against the shadows, still closing in. Against demons and the Devil and angels and _God_ , if it comes to that. Because, whatever else Sam is, he's still Dean's little brother. And if there's anything more powerful than a bond that's bent and lasted as long as the one between him and Sam, after all they've gone through, Dean's never heard of it.


	3. captain america is going to die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean and Superman.

When Sam is nine years old, Dean tells him that their dad is a superhero.

Sam thinks that maybe Dean expected him to be more impressed than he is.

“So that makes you, what? Dad’s _sidekick_?” he asks one day, half-expecting the slap to the back of the head that he has to duck at the last second.

“I’m not a sidekick, smartass,” Dean tells him, but he’s only scowling at Sam for show. Sam can see the smile tugging at the corners of Dean’s lips.

“You _totally_ are,” Sam says, just to be a pain in the ass. “He should, like, make you wear tights and ride in the bitch seat.”

Dean nearly chokes on the M&Ms he’s shoveling into his mouth, and he laughs, snorts around a handful of them.

“ _Dude_. First of all, Dad doesn’t drive a motorcycle,” Dean says. “So there is no bitch seat. And don’t say bitch, _bitch_ , or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” He kicks Sam under the table as Sam kicks him back, knees knocking against the table legs and making the tabletop shake. Milk sloshes over the side of Sam’s cereal bowl and wets the corner of Sam’s Math homework.

“Second, stop picturing me in tights, you little queer. I don’t swing that way – ‘specially not with my little brother.” Dean smirks, then smirks more when Sam’s eyes narrow and he tries to kick Dean again. Dean moves his legs just in time, and Sam ends up kicking his chair instead.

“And third…” Dean continues, popping the last of the chocolates in his mouth. He crumples up the plastic bag they came in and tosses it onto the overfull trashcan in the corner. “If I’m the sidekick, you’re the dumb broad who keeps needing her ass saved by the superhero and the sidekick. So shut up.”

Sam’s eyes widen a little. He crumples up the first sheet of paper his hand finds (he was gonna have to rewrite it anyway – he doesn’t want to turn it in all dirty and milk-stained) and tosses it at Dean’s head. Dean bats it away, chuckling.

“Dean. I’m not a _girl_ ,” Sam tells him.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the tights, princess.”

“Jerk!”

They end up forgoing the planned “homework hour” for another sparring session – at least, that’s what they tell Dad when he comes home and Sam’s Math still isn’t done. It sounds better that way than saying that Sam decided, between problems five and six, that he wanted to kick Dean’s ass, and Dean thought it would be funny to let him try.

Sam finishes his work that night before bedtime, and he doesn’t know how, but somehow Dean got a hold of his work after that. When Sam gets the assignment back, the teacher has drawn a smiley face next to his grade and written: Nice drawing, but save it for art class, Mr. Winchester.

On the back of the paper, Dean had drawn a little charicature of Robin of Batman and Robin, only “Robin” is wearing a letter S on his chest and has long hair and breasts.

Dean laughs his ass off when Sam comes home angry.

When Sam is fifteen years old, Dad tells Sam that Dean might die if he can’t get them to the hospital in time.

It won’t be the last time that Sam will fear for his brother’s life with good reason, but it is the first time that will stick in Sam’s memory. Dean is lying in the back of Dad’s truck, barely conscious. His eyes are wide and glassy, and he’s staring at everything and nothing all at once. He’s too pale, but Sam doesn’t look at him too much because it makes him want to cry like a frickin’ baby, and Dean told him to “stop crying like a little bitch” back when Sam turned twelve. Sam hasn’t really cried in front of Dean since.

Sam can’t not look at all the blood coming out of Dean’s stomach, however. There’s just so much of it, and it’s there. Behind Sam’s eyelids every time he looks away anyhow.

But the most disturbing thing of all is why Dad is telling Sam this. Why he’s saying “Dean could die” instead of driving already.

He’s doing it so he can make sure Sam knows his job on the way to the hospital. He’s doing it so he can tell Sam where to put pressure while Dad drives like the hounds of Hell are after them, and Dean’s life trickles out between Sam’s fingers no matter where Sam pushes.

And Sam’s got this thing now, where doing anything Dad says – much less doing it easy, no question – rankles. But he doesn’t raise a fuss now. He doesn’t even think about it. He listens and follows and does and presses where Dad showed him til his fingers go numb, all the way down the highway.

Dean’s even sort of with him for some of it, though Sam can’t decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

“Sammy, that you?”

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me.”

“Don’t go nowhere.” It’s getting dark outside, and the wind wiping over the truck bed is a constant rumble. Dean’s eyes are closed anyway, so he doesn’t see Sam wipe at his eyes and if he hears a little sniffle - he doesn’t say anything.

“I won’t. I won’t.”

“Man, Dad is _driving_.”

And Sam laughs because there isn’t anything else to do. Dad’s hauling ass – every minor bump feels like it might make Sam’s ass take flight, but Sam wouldn’t mind if they actually were going so fast that they were flying. Those stupid conversations Sam and Dean used to have about their dad and superheros come back to Sam suddenly and Sam’s near-hysterical brain latches onto them.

‘ _So, if Dad’s a superhero, which one is he? Batman? Superman?_ ’ Sam asked once.

‘ _Batman, dorkbreath. Superman’s lame_ ,’ Dean had said.

‘ _But Superman can fly,_ ’ Sam had countered.

“Sammy, that you?” Dean asks again, like he can’t remember already asking.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me,” Sam says, louder than the first time. And it’s not wind or mist that makes him really goddamned cold.

Because for a moment Sam actually wishes he was nine, eight, seven years old again, and could half believe most of Dean’s shit.

‘ _Superman can’t be killed_ ,’ Dean had told him before he’d gone on his Batman-is-loads-better phase, then gotten too old to care about either one. ‘ _Superman can lift anything_.’

“S-Sam, tell Dad to hurry.”

‘ _Superman can stop time,_ ’ Sam hears in his head.

“Dad!” he screams, now and then, against the glass of the pickup’s back window. He doesn’t really want to know – later – what he’d been babbling in between until they were finally pulling into a hospital parking lot.

When Sam is facing one last year alive with his brother, Dean tells him to back off and let the deal run its course.

Sam hunts down the demon who accepted the contract on Dean’s soul and puts a bullet in its brain.

Dean asks him to let it go – to let _Dean_ go. But Sam can’t stop searching, seeking, trying. Not because he hasn’t finally learned to listen to Dean again, but because he realizes now that he never really stopped.

Dean told Sam that he had a superhero watching out for him – a legend, larger than life, who would always be there. Always be the one who came out on a top. Always come up with the plan that beat the bad guys and saved the world. Eventually. And Sam’s been trying his entire life to believe Dean.

Only thing is… Sam’s lied, time and time again.

He’s never thought that Dean was silly for thinking of Dad as a Superman.

Sam just thinks Dean got the wrong guy.

And he’s never believed that Dean was the sidekick.


	4. Shorts from "Faith"

1.

When he first hears it, he wants to laugh. Maybe it’s a little fucked up, but he can’t take the doctor seriously.

Keep him comfortable? What does that mean? That’s the kind of thing you say when-

No. No, this is Dean they’re talking about. Mr. ‘this isn’t fear, it’s precaution.‘ - this is Sam’s brother. You don’t keep Dean “comfortable.” You smirk when he gets his ass hurt, and give him shit about it afterward. Because he kind of had it coming - rushing into danger the way he always does. Taking huge, stupid risks so Sam doesn’t even have to take the little ones.

“We can’t work miracles.”

The doctor isn’t joking. Sam swallows. 100,000 volts of electricity had coursed through Dean’s body before Sam found him, wet and unconscious in the basement. Sam knew that what had happened was…really bad. But-

100,000 is just a number. Sam’s mind just can’t wrap around it. Dean is twenty seven years old. Heart attack or no heart attack, it shouldn’t take a miracle for him to see his next birthday. Hell - to see the next two months.

Twenty seven is a number, too. Maybe numbers don’t mean anything after all.

2.

“I talked to your doctor.”

It’s like they’re competing for who can be the most believable. And Dean has the upper hand. He has all the visuals - the beeping monitors, the hospital gown. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his eyes look sunken in his face, surrounded by dark circles.

“Yeah. Looks like you’re leaving town without me.” But this isn’t a game.

“What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you here.” He’s never walking away from Dean again. What? Dean doesn’t think Sam’s learned his lesson?

Or is this just Dean putting on a “brave” face for his only brother? Fuck that. They’ve never been only brothers. They’ve always meant more to one another, and now-

“We have options.” He can’t say more here. But the thought has to have crossed Dean’s mind. Sam shouldn’t have to say anything.

“What options? Cremation or burial are pretty much our only options, Sammy.”

The words are unnecessarily cruel, even if their bite wasn’t intended for Sam. Sam doesn’t know if he wants to vomit or sob. Neither would be acceptable, so he stands there and remembers how to breathe.

“Look. I know it’s hard…” The mask slips. There is real fear in Dean’s eyes. That clinches Sam’s decision. “I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.”

Sam can stop anything that tries to take Dean away from him. He has to. The doctor said Sam has to face the facts.

And as far as Sam’s concerned, the facts are that:

Dean is everything Sam has left.

Sam isn’t going to let Dean go without a fight.

Dad and Dean have always drawn Sam into one fight or another. And he’ll be damned if he’ll let Dean talk him into backing out of this one.

“Watch me.”

3.

The words are larger than they should be. Sam can’t quite fit them through his mouth. They lodge somewhere in his throat and he has to force them out with deep breaths. They sound like they’re wrapped in cotton, light and ghostly - Sam can’t believe they’re real. But his throat feels like he’s been swallowing fire for having conjured them, and three days of searchingsearchingsearching has brought reality home to him.

“It’s Dean, he’s… He’s sick. Andthedoctorshavedoneeverythingtheycando, but- It’s alright. ‘Cause they don’t know what we know.

And I’m gonna do whatever I have to to get him better.”


End file.
